


A Madhouse called Home

by mangacrack



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Incest, M/M, Open Relationships, Smut, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:56:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/pseuds/mangacrack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fëanáro wakes, he can't move. In fact he's barely able to wiggle his toes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Madhouse called Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



> I tried to tackle your OT8 ship and hope it's something you like.

When Fëanáro wakes, he can't move. In fact he's barely able to wiggle his toes. Creaking one eye upon he's greeting by Tyelkormo who's using him as mattress, arms crossed over his father's chest. 

"Good Morning, Ada," Tyelkormo greet him with a wide grin, showing off his white teeth which makes Fëanáro immediately suspicious.

"What did you do?" The father groans and slumps one arm over his face to hide in the crook of his elbow. "What did you do, Tyelko? Tell you didn't do anything, it's too early for this." 

Tyelkormo rubs his nose against his father's naked chest. 

"These are heavy accusations, father mine!" he claims dramatically while hugging Fëanáro tight. "I'm hurt by your low opinion of me. Haven't I been always loyal to you? Don't I spend days and nights far away from home to feed your brood? And after the long struggle to be the first to greet you in the morning you thank me by  _doubting_  my  _intentions_?"

Fëanáro closes his eyes, lets his head fall back into the pillow and considers knocking his son out and go back to sleep.

A soft moan right next to him interrupts his thought. Despite the fact that he should know better, Fëanáro can't resist the temptation and turns his head. He's greeted by the sight of Maitimo's flushes face, eyes screwed shut while's biting his on his lower lip to keep the noise down. 

"Káno," his eldest son pants, "Káno, please..." 

Fëanáro blinks and realizes that Maitimo is just a minute or two away from coming, if that long. Mesmerized by his eldest son's desperation, Fëanáro watches Maitimo buck under Makalaurë's thrusts. It truly doesn't take long for both of them to come, Maitimo's expression changes from dazed to blissful as he spills his seed over his brother's hands.

For a while everything is quiet but for the wet and loud panting filling the room until Makalaurë legs go of Maitimo to push the hair out of his face.

"Morning Ada," he says, still a little breathless. "Sleep well?" 

Looking from Makalaurë to Maitimo and back again, Fëanáro answers, "Obviously not as good as you did."

"He ambushed me." Maitimo joins the conversation with a growl. It would be more intimidating if he wasn't still lying on his stomach, spread out on the bed, going through the tangled mess of his red air while trying to get his breathing back under control. With great effort Maitimo turns his head until he can shoot Makalaurë an angry look. "I'll get you back for this, I promise you. I'm going to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until you cry."

"Your knees have to stop shaking first," Makalaurë taunts, half-way dressed already.

"I'll find someone to hold you down," Maitimo growls and throws a pillow at his brother.

Makalaurë only laughs and disappears through the door.

Fëanáro is wise enough not to say anything. Like himself, Maitimo isn't the most cheerful person in the mornings. Unfortunately Tyelko always get up before sunrise and also cares little about other people's plights - least of all his brothers. In fact he's well known for aggravating Nelyo as much and as often as he can.

"Wow," he doesn't hesitate to comment. "You ass just got owned!"

"Shut your fucking mouth, Tyelko!" 

Suddenly Maitimo is up, his exhaustion forgotten as he tackles his younger brother. That Tyelko is still straddling their father he doesn't notice. Maitimo only buries his brother beneath him, trying to use his large frame to his advantage as their roll over the mattress. What follows is an 'Oof', a crash and an angry, very creative curse.

Fëanáro doesn't have the time to enjoy the fact that Maitimo got Tyelko off him since Curvo is jerking upright on his other side, furious and raging mad at being woken in such a manner. Fëanáro watches the on going fight right next to him, carefully backing away when there's no one fleeing from angry purchasers.

"I'll leave you alone," he announces, hurrying to get off the bed. "See you at breakfast."

Not anytime soon he imagines since is Maitimo holding Tyelkormo's wrists down while Curvo pushes the ankles apart. Given the way how successful Tyelko is at wriggling himself free it will end up with one son tied to the bed while the other two blow off some steam.

Then Fëanáro hurries to get through the door.

He's supports sexual activities of all kind ... but not before breakfast. Satisfying seven sons can be incredible exhausting.

 

-

 

Following the smell of fresh bread, inhaling the wonderful with delight Fëanáro enters the kitchen. Correction. He attempts to enter the kitchen but is greeted by the sight of Carnistir clutching the table while Makalaurë is kneeling in front of him. He is pushing his tongue as deep as he can into his little brother who squirms under the touch like he always does when he's getting rimmed.

Leaning against the door frame, Fëanáro watches simply for a while. Standing there, listening to Moryo's moans - joyful, relaxed instead of desperate - actually raises his mood.

"Found another victim, I see?" Fëanáro comments as Makalaurë keeps pleasuring his little brother until Moryo's knees are too weak to hold up upright.

Replacing his tongue with his fingers, Makalaurë turns his heads towards to speak with his father, "Wanna join in? We wouldn't mind."

"Not now," Fëanáro says, shaking his head. "I haven't eaten yet."

Makalaurë just shrugs neither offended nor hurt. With eight people living in an open rather unusual relationship one has to accept refusals without making a fuss. Especially if someone isn't in the right mood for it. Every member of this house knows to leave each other alone when the humming, never ending background noise get to much.

"I'll be working on the frame for my next harp later," Makalaurë simply tells his father, in case he wishes to seek him out and resumes his work of pushing his fingers deeper into Moryo.

 

-

 

After Fëanáro escapes the kitchen, fresh bread and a few fruits tucked under his arm, he meets Curvo in the hallway. He wishes he hadn't since his son was carrying a tablet with burning candle, a needle, one of Makalaurë's harp-strings and a few walnuts. Fëanáro opens the door to the bedroom for him since Curvo struggle with the handle and his elbow has been going on for while.

"Do I want to know what's you intend to do with these objects?" he asks when his son walks past him, dressed in nothing more than bedsheet wrapped around his waist.

Curufinwë smiles, sweet and knowing. "No, Atar. For the shake of your sanity I recommend to practice ignorance."

"Very well," Fëanáro murmurs under his breath and searches for a secluded place.

Perhaps the last night wore him out a little more than usual. When he finds a beautiful and quiet patch in the garden, Fëanáro tries to remember who he actually had sex with last night. And while he's sure he cradled Nelyo in his arms at least once, it doesn't mean much.  Given sleeping habits of his children, he's used to waking with a different person than the one you went to sleep with. Mostly because he has insomniacs in his family who raise early and make graciously space for those sons trying to sneak into Ada's bed at night.

Upon realizing how unsettling the peaceful silence felt after a while Fëanáro also wonders why he hasn't seen the twins all morning.

 

-

 

Finding the twins when they were up to something isn't an easy task. With five brother to teach them every trick in the book makes being their father a trying existence. In the end Fëanáro discovers them only because they weren't running away. A little bit removed from the trouble downstairs, Fëanáro catches his youngest lying on their stomaches with Nolofinwë trapped between them. Pityo is holding his brother's wrists and prevents any attempt of escape while Telvo has his head between Nolo's thighs.

Fëanáro's eyebrows rise to the hairline when he sees this, finally having the source of the gasping he heard echoing through the walls.

"Ada," Telvo says when he sees his father, a bit surprised. Pointing at his panting uncle who's clearly a victim of an ambush, he asks "Do you mind?"

Sitting down next to Telvo, Fëanáro answers with a grin, "Only if you don't share."

It's enough for Telvo to return to his self-appointed task of driving Nolofinwë mad with his tongue who finally noticed that he wasn't alone with the twins anymore.

"It's too early for this," Nolofinwë gasps, struggling against Pityo's hold when Telvo swallows his length again. "A-as mu-uch as I ... ah, l-love your family, I ... I can't..."

"Brother, if you haven't managed to escape by the time my children wake up, it's your own fault," Fëanáro tuts. "You insisted on your own guest room despite all my warnings and I can't hear you protesting exactly."

Nolofinwë's answer is lost with the next whine he lets out. Fëanáro on the other hand pulls one knee to his chest to watch his beloved brother get ravished by his youngest children. For a while no one speaks, the silence is only filled with Nolofinwë's moans.

It's Pityo who suddenly raises his head, staring at his father.

"Ada, Telvo and I were curious about something and if you're free right now, could you show us...? We thought is best not to figure it out ourselves."

"What exactly are you talking about?" Fëanáro wants to know. There's not much left the twins hadn't learned from their brothers already.

"Rope bondage," Ambarussa blurts out, both of them torn between guilt and eagerness.

Fëanáro smiles and kisses both of his sons on their head, proud that they had the sense to ask someone experienced. Taking Telvo's place, he takes Nolofinwë angles into his hands to part the legs wide. Only then Nolofinwë realizes who exactly the victim is going to be.

Yet instead of protesting, he groans unable to his arousal. It wouldn't be the first time for Fëanáro to tie him up and so far Nolofinwë always enjoyed it. Exhaling slowly Nolofinwë submits the madhouse that his brother calls home and only groans a little when Telvo returns from somewhere with ropes in his arms. He's also carrying leather cuffs, oil and a gag. 

"Go easy on me?" Nolofinwë asks, panting slightly and still high on arousal since neither of the Fëanorian's got him off. Hence why his length stand proud between his legs, aching and leaking, waiting for attention. 

"This is a lesson first," Fëanáro purrs. "We'll work on your self-control while I introduce Ambarussa to the delight of bondage. Perhaps you can start with telling them about your experiences with it?"

Suddenly Nolofinwë has the attention of two red-heads who look at him like elflings waiting for story-time.  


End file.
